


Clarity in a Foggy Sky

by chidorinnn



Category: Persona 4, Persona Series
Genre: Accomplice Ending (Persona 4), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 02:18:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5565355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chidorinnn/pseuds/chidorinnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mystery was never solved, and Souji left Inaba after choosing to cover for the culprit. Now, upon his return less than a month later, he's forced to deal with the consequences of his decision.</p>
<p>Post-Accomplice Ending AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarity in a Foggy Sky

Souji Seta returned to Inaba on a foggy day two weeks, three days, and six hours from when he first left. There were no dreams of limousines swathed in blue velvet, no promises of adventure and mystery. There was just him, arriving with a weight pressing down on his chest that had nothing to do with the unnaturally thick fog.

Like before, Ryotaro Dojima came to pick him up at the train station. Unlike before, Nanako wasn’t there, hiding behind her father and avoiding Souji’s gaze. “It’s good to see you again,” Dojima says with a small chuckle. “Nanako was so happy when she heard that you’re coming back.”

Souji managed a small half-smile for him. He’d been getting especially good at that lately. “It’s good to be back,” he said quietly.

He looked behind him briefly. Before, there’d been a man standing by the tracks, a cell phone raised to his ear and a satisfied smirk tugging the corners of his mouth upward.

Souji’s own cell phone remained silent and still in his pocket.

* * *

Like before, Dojima stopped first at the gas station, giving instructions to the attendant before stepping far enough away to smoke that Souji could no longer see him through the fog.

The gas station attendant hadn’t changed much – her hair had grown a little longer, maybe, but that was it. “You’re back,” she said simply, not looking up at Souji as she filled the gas tank.

“Mm,” Souji said noncommittally. His phone buzzed once in his pocket, making him jump. Souji fumbled for it, and then sighed in relief when all that showed up on the screen was a text message from his mother, asking if he’d arrived safely.

The gas station attendant crossed her arms over her chest and looked directly and unflinchingly into Souji’s eyes. “It seems you have some unfinished business left.”

Souji looked downward and clenched his hands into fists. When he closed his eyes, he found himself back in that interrogation room at the police station, impulsively grabbing the lighter one second and watching the warning letter burn the next. “I…”

She dipped her head downward. “Will you run?” she asked quietly. “Or will you stay?”

There was no time to answer. “Sorry about that,” Dojima interjected. “Ready to go?” Souji nodded wordlessly and watched him climb into the driver’s seat.

The woman didn’t say another word, but the smile she gave Souji made his stomach lurch and his head spin just as it did a year ago.

* * *

The reports said that there had been significant Shadow activity in the Yamanashi Prefecture. Why such a small, remote place would attract Shadows to such a degree, Mitsuru had no idea.

“Maybe they have their own version of Tartarus,” Fuuka had suggested. “Somewhere Shadows come from that normal people can’t see.”

"Just say the word, Senpai,” Junpei had said confidently, cracking his knuckles and grinning. “I’ll head over there and set ‘em straight!”

“I can check it out if you want,” Yukari had told her over the phone. “Don’t worry about me – I can handle it.”

But there was no way Mitsuru was going to risk their lives without assessing the threat herself – so she sat in the train with her legs crossed and her hands folded in her lap. Akihiko sat next to her, staring impatiently out the window and drumming his fingers on the armrest. “Is it just me,” he said, “or is the fog too thick?”

“Too thick for it to be a natural weather condition?” Mitsuru answered. “Perhaps.”

Their seats lowered slightly as Aigis pressed her hands down on them from behind. “Such heavy fog indicates a drastic drop in outdoor temperature,” she said. “My records show that the villagers believe the fog to be the leading cause of illness.”

“If it were Apathy Syndrome again, then wouldn’t we know about it?” Akihiko asked.

“We should,” Mitsuru answered, “but this may be a different condition. Similar to Apathy Syndrome in nature and causes, but different in symptoms.”

Akihiko raised his eyebrows. “You got that one from Fuuka.”

“Affirmative,” Aigis said firmly, nodding, before Mitsuru had time to protest.

Mitsuru turned to look out the window and sighed. There was nothing but a vast expanse of white, too thick to be able to see anything but the faintest outlines. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see,” she said.

* * *

Yosuke came the first night Souji was left home alone. He should have seen it coming, Souji berated himself, but he also couldn’t help but wonder why Yosuke hadn’t said anything before – back when the two of them, along with Yukiko and Chie, had been coincidentally placed in the same class once again; back when he’d looked straight down at his empty notebook and clamped his mouth shut while Yukiko gasped and Chie screeched, but Yosuke remained uncharacteristically silent. 

“Thanks for giving us a heads up,” was the first thing out of Yosuke’s mouth. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest at the doorway, his expression deceptively blank. “You know,” he continued with that same uncharacteristic (irritating) calmness, “when we saw your name on the class roster, we thought there’d been some mistake for sure. But there you were, same as always.” He frowned, and then he sighed. “Or… not, I guess.”

Souji didn’t say a word as he stepped away from the door. Taking it as his cue to enter, Yosuke toed his shoes off by the genkan and kicked them haphazardly to the side. This was normal just a few months ago, said an irritating voice in Souji’s mind that sounded suspiciously like the gas station attendant. There used to be nothing strange about Yosuke coming over like this.

“Is this about Nanako-chan?” Yosuke asked. He didn’t sound quite so calm anymore. “Because she’s actually doing a lot better. We all went to visit her a few days ago, and the doctor said she’ll be discharged–”

“I know what the doctor said,” Souji said in a whisper so quiet, he could barely hear it himself. There was something like static in his mind, making everything blur into a dull haze.

“Then what is it?” Yosuke almost shouted. Souji turned to look at him, and immediately regretted the decision. He could deal with anger; he could deal with accusations. But the hurt in Yosuke’s expression – the tension in his shoulders, how his fists shook at his sides – was something that Souji couldn’t handle.

“What’s wrong?” Yosuke asked more quietly, more gently. “Wait, don’t answer that. Or–” He took a deep breath, and then slowly unclenched his fists. “If it’s something you can’t tell me, then…” 

His voice faded into the static encompassing Souji’s mind, even though it absolutely shouldn’t have. Stupidly, impulsively, _selfishly_ , Souji wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him everything that had happened, how everything he thought he wanted warped in the blink of an eye into something cruel and unfamiliar.

_He’s not here_ , Souji reasoned. _There’s no way he’ll find out._

His cell phone lay face down on the kitchen table, silent and unmoving. The fog outside was so thick that it was impossible to see out the window.

“It’s my fault.”

“Wh-What…?” Yosuke blinked once, twice.

Outside, the fog rippled. For a brief moment, Souji could almost see the silhouette of a tree. Somehow, that alone made it easier to speak.

_No more excuses. No more running away._

“It’s my fault,” Souji said again, and his voice came out startlingly clear. “I covered for him.”

* * *

The gas station attendant waved goodbye to her manager soon after changing out of her uniform and into a more comfortable dress. When she stepped into the fog, she knew.

She raised one hand into the air and watched as wisps of white weaved around her fingers. It wasn’t quite so cold anymore. It was easier to breathe.

She smiled for the first time in a long, long time. “He really did it,” she said to herself. “He really came back.”

* * *

“What’re you–” Yosuke spluttered, dumbfounded. “Souji, what–”

“I covered for him,” Souji said again. “It’s my fault.”

“Yeah, I know, you said that already,” Yosuke said quickly, “but… _what_? How could you have covered for him if we didn’t even…” His eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. “Wait a minute. You _knew_? You knew and you didn’t say anything?”

The feeling of guilt pressing down on him until his chest hurt was nothing new, but somehow Yosuke’s presence made it even worse. Souji squeezed his eyes shut. _No more excuses_ , he told himself again. _No more running away_. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, so he nodded.

“No…”

Ah, there was the hurt again. Every instinct screamed for Souji to look away from Yosuke, and yet his eyes remained glued there, watching the closest friend he had now – who probably wouldn’t _stay_ his friend, all things considered – back away from him like he was some kind of monster.

“I’m sorry,” Souji whispered. It meant nothing, he reminded himself – the damage was already done. 

Yosuke clenched his fists and looked away, his eyebrows furrowed. Maybe he was going to hit Souji again. Maybe there would be a brawl like there was at the riverbank, all those months ago when things were simpler and easier – except Souji had no intention of fighting back this time. “Who was it then?” he asked, his voice shaking. “It had to be someone important to you, if you couldn’t even trust me about it.”

_Me_ , not _us_. Souji was sure that he’d start apologizing if he opened his mouth, or maybe crying – he was already well on his way there anyway – so instead of answering, he reached for his phone. By some miracle, it remained silent as he pulled up the most recent calls: one from his mother, two from Dojima, and then six from Adachi.

Yosuke took the phone from him with shaking hands and held it so tightly that Souji was sure it was going to break. The same cold, visceral, loathing fury that was there in Namatame’s hospital room was back now – only all of it was directed to Souji’s phone and none of it to Souji himself. “That _bastard_.”

Yosuke slammed the phone down on the kitchen table. “He said something to you, didn’t he?” he demanded. “To make you keep quiet. And isn’t it _convenient_ that he got to transfer out of here, too? And to think, he was playing all of us like–”

“No, Yosuke,” Souji said tiredly. “I chose to cover for him. He didn’t force me into anything.”

“You know, Partner, I’m having a really hard time believing that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Only the truth he convinced you of.” Yosuke put his hands on Souji’s shoulders and looked directly into his eyes. “We’ll fix this, okay?” he said. “It’s going to be okay.”

For the first time, Souji could finally believe it. The static in his mind disappeared at once, and all of a sudden, everything he’d been suppressing, everything he’d hidden came out in one long, tearful mess. “I’m sorry,” Souji sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

Yosuke sighed, somehow smiling despite everything that had just happened. “I just wish you’d told me...”

 


End file.
